


A Heavy Darkness

by Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hopeful Ending, ish, prior major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/pseuds/Wolftraps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sweetheart, I've been driving for days. I'm exhausted, and I know you're grieving or whatever, but I'm really not in the mood." As she struggles to place the voice, everything starts coming into focus.</p><p>"L-Lydia?" she asks. It takes a couple tries to choke out the word, the air scratching at her throat, voice hoarse from disuse. Everything is still off, it all feels disconnected, at a distance, not quite real. She reaches out to touch, to stroke the pale cheek of this beautiful girl who shouldn't actually be here, and beneath her hand lies soft, real skin.</p><p>Lydia smiles, a soft, sad, tired smile, but it's like dawn. "Come on, let's get you up. I haven't showered in three days, and you smell worse than I do."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heavy Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Cora/Lydia. Derek dies. Lydia's banshee mojo pulls halfway across the country, only to find Cora a complete and total mess.

There's darkness for a very long time; days, she learns later. A heavy darkness, like she's sinking in a vast ocean, the weight pressing in on her harder and harder as she gets deeper and the light draws further and further away. And she keeps waiting to hit the bottom, to cease the endless descent, but it never comes. After the first few moments of flailing, reaching for someone who isn't there anymore, she just gives in, lets herself float away from reality. Eventually, she doesn't even want to be rescued, doesn't remember that she can.  
  
Until finally, there comes a light. Small, at first, fleeting at the edge of her vision, and then growing, drawing nearer. It stops before her, reaches out soft, curling tendrils, and suddenly everything comes rushing in. She's home, in pack territory, surrounded by the fading scent of packmate, but there's an intruder. This being that doesn't quite smell like prey, and so may be predator, reaching out for her. A deep growl builds in her throat, and she snaps her head up to stare down the threat.  
  
It still comes, though. A hand reaches out to grab her chin, hazel eyes staring challengingly back.  
  
"Sweetheart," it speaks, in a voice so familiar, "I've been driving for days. I'm exhausted, and I know you're grieving or whatever, but I'm really not in the mood." As she struggles to place the voice, everything starts coming into focus.  
  
"L-Lydia?" she asks. It takes a couple tries to choke out the word, the air scratching at her throat, voice hoarse from disuse. Everything is still off, it all feels disconnected, at a distance, not quite real. She reaches out to touch, to stroke the pale cheek of this beautiful girl who shouldn't actually be here, and beneath her hand lies soft, real skin.  
  
Lydia smiles, a soft, sad, tired smile, but it's like dawn. "Come on, let's get you up. I haven't showered in three days, and you smell worse than I do."  
  
\---  
  
  
It looks like a bomb went off in the apartment, and Cora knows she must have done that, broken the plates, toppled the furniture, put a chair through the wall, but she doesn't remember it, and everything still seems far away, not quite real. She stares blankly at the mug that was placed in her hands, and when she hears the bathroom door click open, she goes to call for Derek… and stops.  
  
It isn't Derek. It will never be Derek again. For the second time in her life, she's all alone, and she's sinking again.  
  
\---  
  
  
Lydia is here, really here, sitting across from Cora in some cheap Italian place not far from the apartment. She's here, eating a plate of alfredo like she hasn't seen food in a week, wearing jeans and a plain shirt she'd pulled from Cora's dresser, with her hair in a sloppy bun and dark circles around her eyes, and still completely gorgeous.  
  
"You're here," Cora says, about ten minutes after their food arrives, once her brain finally catches up to the situation. "In Brooklyn."  
  
"Finally noticed that, did you?" She looks judgingly at Cora's half eaten plate. "You know, the human body requires 1200 calories a day to maintain proper brain function. I can't imagine werewolves are much different." Cora takes another bite, then returns to just pushing the food around, her stomach churns a bit and she fight back the nausea.  
  
"Is it… because-" she swallows hard and can't finish the sentence.  
  
Lydia bites her lips and smiles thinly, shrugging. "Probably. All I know is I got in my car Wednesday night and drove almost nonstop until I got here."  
  
Cora nods and chokes down another small bite. The food is getting cold and gross, though, and it isn't making it any easier to keep down.  
  
"What-" Lydia starts, then pauses, hesitant. Cora knows what's coming, but she's not prepared. She may never be prepared. It feels like the darkness is still there, always there, waiting; the ocean barely held at bay. "What happened?"  
  
The light, that beautiful light, is still there, but it's too bright, it burns, so Cora pulls back and lets the water, the darkness, come rushing back in.  
  
\---  
  
  
Everything kind of blurs together for a while, and there's a vague memory of standing in front of the apartment building, unable to go in, but the next time Cora really surfaces, she's waking up in a hotel room, curled up in the bed, clutching tight to Lydia's abdomen, which she's using as a pillow.  
  
She loosens her grip, just slightly, but doesn't pull away. Instead, she plays with the hem of the shirt Lydia is wearing, Cora's shirt, now carrying both their scents. She listens to the steady heartbeat, feels the rise and fall of Lydia's chest as she breathes. And she lets the light return, lets it wash over her and chase away the darkness for a time.  
  
Sleep is creeping in again when she finally registers the little signs that herald Lydia's return to wakefulness. Neither of them moves to extract themselves, so, slowly, they both let the slight tension fade. When Lydia does move, it's only to rest a hand on Cora's head, combing fingers through her hair.  
  
"It was Deucalion," Cora finds herself saying. "Derek and Scott let him go, but… he followed us back here, caught Derek off guard. He tried-" She closes her eyes against the burning building up in them and struggles to keep her breathing under control. The sound of Lydia hushing her barely registers, but her heart beats loud and her steady breaths provide a pace for Cora to match.  
  
Eventually, with a deep, shaky breath, she tries again. "He- he tried to get Derek to kill me. He was convinced it would make Derek an alpha again. But Derek- Derek wouldn't. Never would have… they fought."  
  
"And Deucalion?" Lydia asks softly, still carding her fingers through Cora's hair.  
  
"Dead." They're silent for a time, both thinking. But an idea has been building in Cora's mind since it rebooted, memories of stories rising. "Could… could you bring him back? Derek. Like you did Peter?"  
  
Lydia's breath hitches, just slightly, and Cora has matched her own so closely that it does, too, automatically. The hand in her hair pauses for a brief moment. Lydia doesn't immediately discount the idea, though, like Cora had feared. She considers it.  
  
"I don't know," she says finally, and she's not lying. "I barely remember a lot of it. We'd need Derek's body, and we would have to wait for the full moon. And we need blood, but… I don't know if it's the blood of any werewolf or the blood of family or pack, or if it's the blood of an alpha or the one who killed him. There are so many factors…"  
  
She breathes deep, Cora's head rising with her chest, and then sighs. "I can call Stiles tomorrow, see if he can dig anything up or get any information from the vet." Cora nods. They fall silent again, Lydia still petting her hair, and Cora still fiddling with the hem of Lydia's shirt, knuckles brushing against soft, pale skin every now and then.  
  
"Does he know you're here?"  
  
"Who, Stiles?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Yeah. He called me when my mom went to the cops. He's running damage control. Why? Wish he'd come instead?" Cora freezes.  
  
"No, I just kind of thought… you and him-" She finally has to lift her head, relinquish her living pillow, when Lydia's laughter starts shaking her a bit too much. "I'm taking that as a 'no'."  
  
"Definitely a no," Lydia agrees. She smiles up at Cora, who's propped herself up on a forearm, and it's like the sun. The hand that had been worrying Lydia's shirt hem has slipped up under it, absent-mindedly tracing along her bottom rib until she shivers.  
  
"Sorry," Cora whispers, pulling back, but Lydia grabs her hand before it gets far and draws it back where it was. Then up past that, further. The smile is gone, a sort of nervous determination in its place.  
  
It's dark in the room, but Cora can see fine, and as her hand learns the curves of Lydia's body, her eyes trace the lines of her face, the fall of her hair. She's beautiful, bright, warm like sunshine. And when she licks her lips, Cora dives in and lets herself drown in it.  
  
\---  
  
  
They stay in the hotel longer than they should the next day, but eventually they have to return to the apartment. It's a rush of gravity walking in, the smell of security paired with the sight of destruction. Lydia disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two garbage bags, trailing the scent of ground coffee beans. Together, they sift through the wreckage, tossing anything unimportant or beyond repair.  
  
"You should come back with me," Lydia says, after nearly an hour of nothing but the sounds of rustling bags, brewing coffee, and the clink of broken flatware. It's more command than suggestion, but Cora's come to accept that that's just Lydia's way. "I know there's bad memories there, too, but at least you'll have people there to support you."  
  
Cora had known it was coming; had considered it all morning. She stares absently at the door to Derek's room while she thinks, then sighs.  
  
"I have one question," she says, turning her gaze to Lydia. "If… If I get you what you need. If I can get you the blood of an alpha, the blood of the person who killed him… will you try?"  
  
Pursing her lips, Lydia stares back, searching Cora's face for something. Her eyes flick toward Derek's room, just for a second, and she breathes deep. As her shoulders fall, she gives a single, decisive nod.  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
Cora sends Lydia off to her room to start packing her clothes and things. Meanwhile, she stands in the doorway of Derek's room, breathing in the lingering scent. She can still hear him, his labored breaths, the groans of pain, the pleas to end it…  
  
"You're such an asshole, Derek," she whispers to the room, the darkness creeping at the corners. "And I won't forgive you for what you made me do. But you told me, promised me, you wouldn't leave again. And I'm going to hold you to it. You're coming back."  
  
She looks up, into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, into her own, bright red eyes, and then turns and walks back out into the sunlit living room, closing the door behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. You can come yell at me [on Tumblr](http://wolftraps.tumblr.com) if you want.


End file.
